


Who Are You to Change my World

by Cas_tellations



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: 5 tests in 3 days can you hear me screaming, Bisexual Shiro (Voltron), Female Pidge | Katie Holt, Female Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Gay Keith (Voltron), Hurt Keith (Voltron), Keith (Voltron) is a Mess, Keith/Lance (Voltron) Angst, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, M/M, SHEITH - Freeform, Sassy Pidge | Katie Holt, Shiro (Voltron) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Space Dad Shiro (Voltron), Voltron, also i REALLY wanna do a pt.2 for this so hmu with them dank prompts if ya want, also i forgot the words to lots of things whilst writing this, also me and my boyfriend had a long discussion on what the dog's name should be, ana i hope u like this i tried to make it good, and barista, anyway i still named him Kodak bc FIGHT ME ELLIOT, but it also still seems kinda rushed bc, coming from someone who used to work at a cafe/bakery this is...sad, he was on team Koda or Brother bear, i worked real hard on this, like menu, on the days i was going to write i ended up having tests, pidge/lance are together, this is a secret santa gift for Ana!!!!, yeah so aNYWAY
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 09:27:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13120887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cas_tellations/pseuds/Cas_tellations
Summary: Keith is at university, in an attempt to be an astronomer.School is stressful, to say the least. It doesn't help that his dorm isn't a good place when it comes to studying, seeing as his roommate Pidge and her boyfriend were always playing video games super loudly. Keith finds comfort in a barista named shiro that works at a cafe near the school.What starts off as Keith going there for a quiet place to get homework done soon morphs into going there for... other reasons. Like seeing said barista.





	Who Are You to Change my World

**Author's Note:**

> YO SO THIS IS A THING 
> 
> This is a secret santa gift for Ana!!!! I really hope you like it I really did try pretty hard. 
> 
> I'm definitely gonna write a pt.2 to this if enough people want me to, so lemme know what y'all think. But for now, please enjoy the gay.

 

 

 

 

Keith’s plan for his life was simple: finish university, get a good job, find a house or apartment to live in, adopt a few cats and live in peace and happiness. However, the first step in that life plan seems to be panning out into a much bigger feat than he originally intended it to be. He’s neck-deep in homework, headphones blaring a soundtrack to some movie that he hadn’t seen in twelve years and a half-eaten bowl of ramen is teetering on the corner of the desk, centimeters away from falling off and causing yet another horrific mess, just to add to the disaster that is Keith Kogane’s life so far.

 

He’s halfway through his second year at uni, working towards a bachelor's degree in astronomy, because for some god-forsaken reason three years ago he decided that - of course - being an  _ astronomer  _ would be a good stable career path that definitely would not result in him going stir-crazy over the sheer amount of  _ work  _ he has to do.

 

There’s five dollars and twenty-five cents - all in quarters and dimes - in a small, sad pile on the floor beside the couch where he’s currently sitting. That’s enough for one of those fancy coffees from Starbucks that’s 75% espresso or three energy drinks from the gas station down the street. 

 

His days - for the most part - pass in an easy enough rhythm. ‘Easy’ simply meaning that he’s been doing the whole sleep deprivation thing long enough to know exactly how many hours he could go simply fueled by caffeine, just as he knows exactly how many hours a week he has to sacrifice to the sleep gods. 

 

His roommate - Pidge Holt - has her life significantly more together. Though, it’s not like the standards are really that high. Pidge usually gets a few hours sleep and manages to maintain a social life of sorts. More often than not, her lanky art boyfriend Lance would come over and they’d spend hours playing video games into the early hours of the morning. Then Lance would fall asleep and leave art supplies all over the dorm because apparently when he came over, he did so with the intentions to get some art done - though that never happened and a mess was made instead. 

 

Keith is fine with this. He doesn’t need anything  _ more,  _ he’s content. 

 

At least, that’s what he keeps telling himself.

 

-

 

The empty, heavy feeling in Keith’s chest is what makes him go outside during a storm in the dead of night. He just needs to  _ move.  _ To run until his legs ache and his lungs scream for air; to walk until he can barely remember how to put one foot in front of the other and until he’s wandering along side streets lined with perfect family homes. 

 

He wants to  _ escape.  _

 

Of course, he’s limited to Earth. To the United States of America. To his city - he’s tied down, unable to leave no matter how much he wants to. He feels stuck; so, he runs. 

 

It’s humbling, almost. To realize that everything he’s doing has no impact on the universe at the end of the day. To know that all of this running, all of this studying and dozens of sleepless nights is for nothing. 

 

It starts raining soon after he leaves and his thin red hoodie does little to protect him. He keeps his gaze fixedly in front of him, splashing through quickly-forming puddles on the sidewalk and barely seeing the headlights of the few cars whizzing past him on the street. 

 

Lights. 

 

He remembers - years ago - just after he had graduated high school, driving up to the top of a mountain and watching the sunset in the company of Lance, Pidge, and her brother Matt. He can almost taste the cheap wine on his lips from the picnic they’d brought.

 

Out of all the events that had happened that night, the most prominent memory is the passage of time just after the sun’s rays had completely disappeared. The city had lit up, creating countless artificial constellations. 

 

He’s in one of those artificial constellations now - running between street lights - catching the dull glow streaming from people’s windows on his face, illuminating the way that the raindrops are scattered across his figure. His fingers are numb. His jeans are soaked through, rubbing against his skin uncomfortably. 

 

He slows down to a walk, tilting his head towards the sky and letting the rain plaster his hair to his skull. He blinks the water away from his eyes and crosses his arms over his heaving chest, trying to catch his breath. A strange sort of peace takes over him, thought maybe it’s just the exhaustion catching up with him. 

 

It takes only a few minutes for him to reach a small coffee shop, a neon sign in the window declaring it to still be open. He pushes the door open without a second thought, in search of a place to dry off and get warm before attempting to go back to his dorm. It’s empty besides for him, but that’s not surprising considering the circumstances.

 

His shoes squeak on the tile as he walks up to the counter, his eyes trained on the menu hanging from the ceiling. The drinks are ridiculously overpriced, to the point where he’d rather hire a stripper for a private show than spend it on  _ coffee  _ because then at least he’d feel good, whereas the coffee would most likely would taste the same as cat piss. At least, that’s his guess. He has yet to try any of the coffee - or hire a stripper.

 

“Burning the midnight oil? Or, well, 3am oil?” 

 

Keith’s eyes snap down to the barista leaning on his forearms against the counter. He tries to force his face to look a little less startled. 

 

“Yeah, uh... something like that.”

 

The barista smiles, “So, is there anything I can get you?” 

 

“Whatever’s cheapest and has the most caffeine, thanks,” Keith says, rummaging through his pockets for change.

 

The barista nods quickly and turns around, busying himself with making the drink. 

 

The coffee shop is small, but modern looking. The lights are low hanging and almost dim, casting gentle shadows around. The walls are painted a dark brown and countless framed pictures of nature hang on them. There’s music playing, ever so softly - so softly that Keith can barely make out the lyrics, but it adds to the general ambiance of the place. 

 

There’s a few couches pushed into the corners, all with a large amount of pillows upon them. A few small tables fill the space in front of them - made from light, polished wood, matching the slightly wilted flowers in vases in the centre of each table.

 

Keith runs a hand through his soaking wet hair, pushing it back and exposing his forehead. He’s cold; now that the adrenaline has worn off, he’s realising just how stupid he is. 

 

It’s the middle of the night. He only has a vague idea of where he is and he didn’t tell anybody where he was going. He’d left his phone next to a pile of homework that he really should be doing right now. His clothes are soaked through and he’s using what little money he has left on  _ coffee  _ of all things, instead of catching a bus back to the general vicinity of his dorn. 

 

He’s in the middle of having a slight mental breakdown in the cafe when the barista slides a huge drink (piled with whipped cream and some sort of caramel and chocolate sauce) onto the counter in front of Keith. Keith’s eyes widen as he takes a hesitant sip of the drink. 

 

It tastes like chocolate and coffee and chocolate, with more than just a hint of caramel. It’s burns the roof of his mouth and has way more sugar than any human should consume in one drink, but he can’t care less when it tastes so  _ good.  _ He takes another gulp before he remembers that he’s in public and there’s someone staring at him. 

 

“I-sorry-...” Keith wipes the whipped cream off his upper lip with the back of one hand, “sorry, how much was this again?” He’s frantically digging through his pocket for change, hoping that he has enough. 

 

“Hey, it’s no problem. The coffee’s on me,” the barista says quickly with a softly-toned voice.

 

“Oh. Thank you.” 

 

“It’s alright. Looks like you’ve had a rough enough night so far anyway,” he laughs, but not in a menacing way. It sounds almost comforting, somehow. “I’m Shiro, by the way,” he holds a hand out and offers Keith a weak smile. 

 

“I’m Keith,” he reaches forwards to shake Shiro’s hand. It’s then that he realises that it’s a prosthetic and falters. If Shiro notices the way that Keith pauses, he doesn’t comment on it. 

 

Keith sidesteps and slips into one of the stools along the counter, running his fingers through his still-wet hair in a vain attempt to try and make it look a little better. 

 

“You’re looking a little water-logged there, Keith,” Shiro comments, turning and leaning back against the counter to face Keith. 

 

“Yeah, that’s what happens when you’re an idiot who goes for a run during a storm,” Keith takes another sip of the drink. It’s warm and makes his whole body feel a little better - like he shouldn’t regret going for a run during a storm  _ too  _ much. At the very least, he’s gotten a (probably slightly too addictive) drink out of the whole ordeal.

 

Shiro’s face looks warm - inviting. The soft lights of the cafe only intensify this. His eyebrows are dark and thick, his jaw strong. His hair is weirdly cut - it’s black with an undercut, but then there’s a startlingly white longer section of hair that falls across his forehead.  His shoulders are wide and a thin scar runs across his nose. 

 

His features aren’t normal - not by a long shot - but the thing that catches Keith’s eye the most is the metallic right arm. Keith wonders what happened. He doesn’t ask, and Shiro - of course - gives him nothing but more questions. 

 

“So what drove you to go for a run during this time of night then?” Shiro asks, keeping his tone light and his ( beautiful, searching ) eyes trained on Keith's. Keith fidgets under the eye contact. He settles on looking slightly to Shiro’s left - over his shoulder and towards the espresso machine. It looks old and well-used - a few dents, old coffee stains that nobody bothered to clean, the steamer slightly bent. 

 

“Uh,” Keith fumbles for words. The truth is a bit… much to be telling somebody, especially a stranger (even if said stranger does make good coffee). “Didn’t have anything better to do.” he settles on a lie, really, there’s lots of much better things that he could be doing. Shiro nods understandably. 

 

Moments of silence pass, and Keith sips his drink awkwardly. Shiro returns to his work, leaving Keith to shiver and take huge gulps of the sweet coffee.

 

Occasionally people will come into the shop, and Keith is both horrified and impressed by their choice of coffee. The sheer amount of espresso shots that he watched Shiro pour into them would be enough to wake a corps. 

 

Keith’s not exactly sure when he fell asleep against the counter - hands still firmly wrapped around his mug. It’s just that he’s so,  _ so _ exhausted - both physically and mentally. His body aches and his mind screams at him because he’s the sort of human being that fucks up their life by not doing their goddamn homework. 

 

He feels useless and stupid because he’s trying to go into  _ astronomy,  _ and god, it’s so much work. He’s not built for this - spending weeks upon weeks studying for a test and then more often than not barely scraping by with a passing grade. His work ethic doesn’t exactly match what’s needed, he doesn’t have enough drive to bother doing  _ everything.  _

 

He feels broken and lost and dumb for dropping everything to escape into the rain. Exhaustion grabs at his bones. So, before he knows it, he’s asleep, head resting against the counter in a tiny coffee shop. 

 

His dreams are restless - something is chasing him and he can’t escape, no sound comes out as he screams, and nobody is there to answer his cries. It’s terrifying. Dream-Keith sinks to the floor dropping to his hands and knees, a strange dark purple goop sucking his hands into the ground. 

 

He can feel something behind him - a monster -with giant teeth and a haunting expression. He tries  _ so hard _ to yell for help of any kind, but no sound comes from his chapped lips. Shadows surround him and they grab at his clothes, clawing at his skin. Everything is so cold. His fingertips go numb and his arms sink further into the purple goop, trapping him. 

 

He’s just about to scream again when he’s woken up abruptly. He keeps his eyes squeezed shut, keeping the almost-comforting sensation of someone wrapping something warm around his shoulders. Slowly - as if he scared that the monsters of his dream somehow made it into the waking world - Keith opens his eyes and lifts his head up. 

 

Shiro is standing beside him, an almost guilty look on his face - hands awkwardly shoved into the front pockets of his jeans. “I- uh, didn’t mean to wake you, you just looked cold.” Keith realises with a start that the warm thing wrapped around his shoulders was a thick sweater.  

 

He says, “Thanks,” and it’s almost a whisper. Keith clears his throat, “sorry for falling asleep.” It sounds dumb as soon as he says it and he mentally punches himself. 

 

“Nah, don’t worry about it, it happens more often than you’d think in here,” there’s a slight pause, but it’s not a long or awkward one, “anyway, if you need to use the phone here or anything, let me know.” 

 

Who would he call to pick him up? Pidge never got her driver's license and Lance would be dead tired - he wouldn’t even pick up. Matt would probably pick him up if he was even in town, but Keith had learned from Pidge that Matt had gone to visit their parents. 

 

“There’s nobody to call,” Keith is thinking out loud at this point. His words are slightly slurred and thick with sadness. 

 

Shiro takes it all in stride, however, without even a speck of hesitation in his voice as he says, “My shift ends in a half hour. I could drive you home then?” 

 

“It’s fine, really. I can walk.” 

 

“Keith…” there’s a sigh, a heavy one at that. Keith stares stubbornly in front of him, not so much as glancing in Shiro’s direction. 

 

“Look. I know that we’re pretty much strangers, but dude. It’s  _ okay.  _ I’ll drive you at least a little closer to wherever you live. It’s no problem, I want to help.” 

 

Keith stands up, chugging the rest of his (cold) coffee and shrugging Shiro’s sweater off his shoulders. “I’m  _ fine. _ ”

 

“No you’re not. And that means a lot, seeing as i’ve only know you for an hour.” 

 

Keith is stubborn. That’s just a fact. 

 

But he knows when he needs help. Even if it’s hard for him to accept said help.

 

“... Alright.” 

 

And that is the first of many times that Keith made Shiro’s whole face brighten.

 

-

 

Quite a few days pass before Keith sees Shiro again. 

 

Lance and his best friend Hunk are at the dorm, playing video games with Pidge. Which honestly would have been okay if they could be a little more quiet. But Lance never shuts his damn mouth and Pidge yells out in pure joy whenever she she kills a zombie, and Hunk is constantly shouting encouragement to the other two. 

 

There’s popcorn all over the couch and the floor and nobody seems to care about the fact that Keith  _ actually  _ has to get this assignment done. 

 

Keith jams some headphones on and turns his (dubstep) music way up, hoping to drown out the others. It doesn’t work well enough. Background sand drips in and he ends up getting more and more frustrated, to the point of grabbing a fistful of his hair and pulling it  _ hard.  _

 

He slams his laptop closed after about a half hour, shoves all the stuff he needs into his backpack and leaves the dorm, slamming the door as hard as he can behind him. 

 

He goes to the same caf é that he had been at a few nights ago - except this time the caf é is bustling with people and the dim lights had been turned up brightly, illuminating corners that had previously been cast on by dark shadows. 

 

His heartbeat picks up a notch simply from the drastic change was the difference between the caf é at night and the caf é during the afternoon. 

 

He makes his way into line, glancing up at the menu before deciding that just a simple black coffee would probably be best - and cheapest, for that matter.

 

The line is long, but it moves quickly enough. 

 

Shiro’s not alone this time, he’s accompanied by a tall girl with startling long and silver hair, as well as a man with a very impressive orange mustache. 

 

“So  _ Keith _ what can I get for you today?” Shiro sidles up, smiling lightly.

 

“Just a regular small coffee, thanks.”  

 

“Coming right up.” 

 

The coffee is delivered quickly to him, and Keith goes to sit at a table near the steamed-up window, opens up his laptop and takes a sip of the bitter drink. 

 

Twenty minutes later the table is covered in bits of paper, sticky notes and textbooks. He has gotten more work done in that twenty minute time slot than he had during a whole hour back at the dorm. His coffee is lukewarm on the verge of cold, but he doesn’t mind as he’s not really drinking much of it at all. 

 

“Mind if I sit here?” Keith’s head snaps up to see shiro, having changed out of his work clothes and holding a worn binder stuffed full with paper. 

 

“Sure.” Keith shoves some of the paper to make some room for Shiro, and Shiro smiles dazzlingly brighty, which somehow,  _ somehow  _ makes Keith’s stomach flip over. 

 

Shiro doesn’t talk, and Keith doesn’t attempt at starting a conversation. 

 

Though the silence between them is comforting and friendly. 

 

-

 

Weeks turn into months and Keith finds himself at the caf é more and more, at first just to have someplace quiet to study for whatever test was coming up, but that soon morphs into just going there for Shiro’s company. 

 

The feeling of needed to run (the feeling of needing to  _ escape _ ) is still there, but for the most part it’s dulled down, and Keith can ignore it. Which honestly, thank god for that. He hated how unpredictable and frankly dangerous he’d become to both the people around him and to himself. He thinks it’s because he’s maturing, instead of thinking that he’s being shoved into the box of being a functional human being. Because at the very least, he’s still quite far away to being functional. 

 

Whenever he has too many projects and assignment built up, he tries his best to avoid the inevitable mental breakdown by working through everything bit by bit, sentence at a time. 

 

The sheer amount of tabs that he has open on his shitty Bell laptop that he got when he was twelve is astronomical, and shows how much he’s working. (Seriously. Pidge had opened his laptop once to check her facebook in case her mom messaged her and got a migraine from all the tabs.)

 

-

 

Keith easily becomes a regular at the caf é . He always orders a small black coffee, even though it tastes disgusting and he never finishes it, it gives him an excuse to stay hunched over his (countless) essays at the corner table by the window. 

 

Most of the time, Shiro was there and they’d have short conversations. If he happened to get off his shift when Keith was there, he’d sit at his table for a while, offering quiet support and sometimes an offhand comment that made Keith’s lips turn up at the edges. 

 

Shiro’s company is unlike any of Keith’s other friends. Pidge was always practically humming with intelligence, wanting to ramble about computer-related things for hours on end. Of course, she has the ability to listen, too, but Keith always feels slightly awkward about taking up her time when she’s so passionate about what she wants to say. Lance is loud. There’s no other way to put it. He demands attention all the time. His clothes are brightly coloured and there’s a smile constantly plastered across his face. There’s nothing wrong with being loud or happy in the slightest, but still. Hunk is great, he really is, his hugs are amazing and his food is the best that Keith has ever eaten but he’s never really gotten that close to Hunk; he’s Lance’s and Pidge’s best friend more than he’s ever been Keith’s.

 

Shiro’s presence is… steady. It’s thick with comfort and understanding. He’s intelligent. Whenever Keith goes off on a rambling tangent about weird space-time constructs, Shiro seems to be able to follow along perfectly, even going as far to add his own thoughts into the conversation. 

 

He’s strong. His biceps alone were probably twice the size of Keith, and Keith works out pretty regularly so that’s saying something. Keith hasn’t seen Shiro’s abs (sadly) but he’s positive that they’d be rock hard. 

 

-

 

Keith is finding it bloody impossible to fall asleep. There’s some people in a dorm a few doors down having a party with blaring, loud music. Nearly half an hour ago, Pidge had grabbed her blanket and blearily stomped out of the dorm, heading to Lance’s. She hadn’t even bothered to put shoes on. 

 

At this point, Keith is tempted to follow her. Their couch was comfy and in the morning Hunk might even make pancakes for everyone. 

 

Instead though, keith rolls onto his back and flips open his phone. He can practically hear Pidge’s voice in his head telling him to stop using a fucking  _ nokia.  _ (“Please, Keith. I’ll literally give you money to go get a cheap samsung or  _ something. _ ”)

 

There’s a missed call and a voicemail. 

 

He listens to the voicemail, his Mom’s thin voice barely audible through the tinny speaker. “Hi Keith, just checking in. I hope you’re doing good! Don’t forget to work hard, everybody back home is rooting for you. Princess misses you, she sleeps in your bed every night, I still think she’s the weirdest cat ever but she does miss you so I guess we have something in common. Anyway, I signed up to volunteer at the foodbank today so I should get going. Bye sweetie, I love you.” 

 

He reminds himself to call her back when it isn’t the middle of the night. 

 

He hates the feeling of not being able to sleep. Of  _ wanting  _ to sleep and having nothing better to do than sleep and there really isn’t a good reason for his eyes to stay open. He should be asleep but he  _ can’t. _

 

And so he finds himself tossing and turning, his blanket becoming a tangled mess around his legs.

 

He ends up going for a walk. It’s not surprising in the slightest. At least it’s not raining. 

 

He makes a beeline for the café because he can’t think of anywhere else to go. (Because it’s always warm and comfortable and safe and cozy and those are all the things that Keith wants to be right now.)

 

It feels like a longer walk than usual, and with every heavy steap that Keith takes he can feel his will to live peeling away more and more. He pulls his sweater a little tighter around his thin torso when he passes by the dark alleyways. He keeps his eyes downcast when other people pass him. He walks hugging the side of buildings, his dark clothing blending in with the background occasionally. 

 

He tries to disappear. 

 

Being as close to winder as it is, even with Keith’s hands shoved deep into his pockets his fingers still get chilly and the tips of his ears and nose seem to have frozen over. 

 

When the café is in sight, Keith breaks in to a run, bursting through the door and throwing himself against the counter. 

 

“I want to die,” he amouncing with a straight face to Shiro, who’s standing behind the counter in a dumb, stunned sort of silence. “Also I need coffee.” Keith slides onto one of the stools by the counter and rests his head in his hands. “And the neighbors were having a party so I left but I’m tired and there’s no bed here.”

 

“There isn’t a bed here.” Shiro says, his voice thick with amusement. 

 

“Unfortunately.” Keith bites back. 

 

“I’m not giving you coffee in the middle of the night.” 

 

“You’ve given me coffee in the middle of the night before.”

 

“Yeah but that was because you honest to god looked like you were about to drop dead.” 

 

“And I don’t look like that right now?”

 

“....Good point. Still. You can have hot chocolate instead.” 

 

“Fine,” Keith grumbles, “Whatever you say, Mr. _ Shirogane _ .” 

 

Keith misses the way that Shiro’s face turns a shade of red quite like a tomato at that statement, because Shiro abruptly turns around to get some hot chocolate.

 

“So uh,” Shiro clears his throat, “why’d you come here instead of y’know, covering your head with a pillow and suffocating through the silence?” 

 

Keith chokes on a laugh, “god I should have done that. It’d be warmer at any rate.” 

 

Shiro hands him a huge cup filled to the brim with whipped cream. 

 

“Jesus. Thanks, Takashi.” 

 

“No problem-o” Shiro leans his forearms against the counter, watching Keith take a sip. 

 

“You look really cold.” Shiro says, in a wondering voice as if he’s weighing the pros and cons to something. 

 

“Oh trust me I am. This is helping though.” Keith takes a giant slurp of the drink as if to prove a point.

 

“Hang on one sec.” Shrio spins around disappearing into the back room, only to reappear a few moments later with a thick wooly sweater that says “#1 CAT MOM” in giant, bolded font. He slips around the side of the counter, and shoves the sweater at Keith. 

 

“I’m not wearing that,” he says as he reaches out to take it from Shiro. 

 

“But you’re cold.” 

 

Keith is already putting it on. “God, i can’t believe I’m willingly doing this. If Pidge saw I might have to try and take back my masculinity by like… drinking  _ car oil  _ or whatever straight guys do for fun.” 

 

“That sounds awful.” Shiro says sympathetically. 

 

“Good thing I’m not straight.” 

 

Shiro snorts.

“that is good, then.” 

 

“yeah. The only other pro would be that dick tastes hella good.”

 

Shiro chokes on his own saliva, his face turning bright red and staring at Keith incredulously. 

 

“God, I am  _ so _ fucking tired, Takashi. Like damn, this has been one hell of a shitty night so far.” Keith yawns for a good twelve seconds and then takes a giant gulp of the hot chocolate. 

“...You should really be asleep.” Shiro says sympathetically.

 

“God, I wish I was asleep. But I sincerely doubt that that’s going to happen tonight.” 

 

General silence overtakes them, washing around them in waves while Keith drinks the hot chocolate and Shiro helps the few customers that come in. 

 

At some point Keith falls asleep against the counter, snoring loudly. Shiro, being the kind Dad-friend that he is, let's him sleep, prying the mug out of Keith’s fingers so that he doesn't accidently knock it over. 

 

Keith could really do with a haircut, as his hair is constantly falling across his eyes (Shiro, of course, softly tucks the hair back behind Keith's ears, being careful not to wake him.)

 

Shiro, though he spends a considerable amount of time with Keith, is still fascinated by the way that his face relaxes completely when he sleep, his lips parted slighter and eyes closed softly, dark eyelashes against pale skin. He mumbles occasionally, words that Shiro can’t make out. He looks peaceful. Soft.  _ Young.  _

 

Shiro catches himself glancing at Keith’s sleeping body way more than any regular person should, and mentally punches himself in the face. 

 

His shift is ending soon, and it feels cruel to leave Keith asleep on the counter with Coran to wake up to a few hours later. He does the only logical thing he can think of.

 

Gently, so very gently, Shiro shakes Keith’s shoulder, until his eyes flutter open and his face, previously so open and soft, automatically closes off ever so slightly.

 

“Shiro?” His voice is raspy. Shiro’s lips turn up in a smile without any effort. 

 

“I’m getting off work soon, you can come back to my place. And sleep in an actual bed.” 

 

Keith’s too tired to protest. If he had been more conscious, he probably would have made some bullshit excuse about how it would be fine if he went back to his dorm, even if the party was just as loud as it had been when he left. If he hadn’t been so tired, he most likely would have argued, told Shiro to get him some coffee and said that he could survive on no sleep because really, Keith is a master of sleep deprivation. 

 

But Keith, being as exhausted as he is, simply lays his head back down onto his arms and says, “Alright.” 

 

-

 

Shiro’s flat is small, and not clean by any extent. But it’s a home. Shiro’s flatmate, Matt, is out of town so he doesn’t bother being quiet, turning on the light and showing Keith to his room, “The bed’s all yours.”

 

Keith blinks at him owlishly (He’s standing so close to Shiro that their chests are almost touching. While walking up the stairs to the apartment, Keith had been almost hanging off of Shiro’s arm. His steps were clumsy and he kept tripping on the littlest things.) “This is your bed.” 

 

“Yeah, but my friend’s gone so I’ll use his.” 

 

“Oh. Okay.” 

 

Shiro catches himself leaning towards the tired boy and quickly snaps back, gesturing at the closet lamely, “There’s pajamas in the closet if you need them… Bathroom down the hall and to the right. Holler if you need me.”

 

-

 

Keith wakes up in an unfamiliar bed. 

 

There’s a moment of unsettling panic deep in his stomach before everything clicks into place and he relaxes back into the mattress and rolls onto his side, taking a deep breath and looking around Shiro’s room. 

 

There’s a small window, sending morning light streaming in. There’s a chair with a pile of clothes pushed into a corner. On the (small, cramped) bedside table there’s a tiny cactus, a handful of dog treats and an old styled alarm clock (9:30am. Keith actually slept in for once.) Other than that, the desk is piled with bits of paper and sticky notes. Keith doesn’t take the time to read any. 

 

There’s glow in the dark stars stuck on the ceiling. 

 

There’s some posters, peeling off the walls. (NASA, Led Zeppelin, one with a bunch of puppies, and one saying ‘YOU CAN DO THIS. SMILE.’) 

 

In the corner beside the closet, there’s an old looking giant red dog bed, covered in hair but lacking a dog, sadly. 

 

There’s a few other things that make the room… Shiro’s. Two pairs of shoes by the door, a box of matches beside an open shoebox filled with scented candles. Another shoebox filled with what looked like craft supplies. 

 

The floor is carpeted, soft under Keith’s bare feet when he gets up and makes his way to the door, pushing it open cautiously and padding down the hallway to the bathroom, splashing some water in his face and combing his fingers through his hair. 

 

The bathroom is pretty clean. There’s a few bottles of pills near the back of the counter, and a glass with two toothbrushes in it. A few shelves along the wall hold everything else; extra towels, deodorant, extra shampoo and face wash. 

 

Keith doesn’t really know his way around Shiro’s apartment, but he  _ is  _ talented at following the scent of freshly cooking pancakes, which leads him directly to the kitchen, where he’s immediately greeted by the sight of Shiro, and more importantly a giant fluffy black and brown dog. 

 

“Oh my god, you have a dog.” Keith drops to his knees, holding his arms out, “C’mere puppy!” The dog bounds over, tail wagging a mile a minute, slobbering all over Keith’s face. Keith’s heart is filled with joy. What’s sadness? Keith has never felt it. 

 

The sound of Shiro’s laughter fills the air, and Keith looks up, his face split into a smile. Their eyes meet and for that second (just that moment, a small section of a lifetime) Keith thinks that he could get used to this. And then the dog knocks him over and Keith falls to the floor in a furry, slobbery mess.

 

Keith sits up, scratching the dog behind his ears and looking back up at Shiro, “What’s his name?” 

 

“Kodak,” Shiro slips down onto the floor beside them, petting Kodak.

 

“What kind of dog is he?” Keith’s voice is laced with excitement. 

 

“A good boy.” Shiro says seriously, with a straight face. 

 

“No I meant breed you shit.” Keith laughs, leaning forwards and kissing Kodak’s forehead, “He is a good boy though.” 

 

“He really is. And he’s a king shepherd, the best breed ever in my opinion.” 

 

“He’s amazing.” 

 

Keith spends most of the morning on the floor with the dog. At some point Shiro makes him get up to scarf down a plate of pancakes drenched in syrup and butter, and then Shiro gives him a handful of dog treats and says, “Koda knows tons of tricks.” and keith is thoroughly entertained for a good hour. 

 

Keith doesn’t think about going back to his dorm. He doesn’t have any classes to go to, so he’s free to figure out a way to steal Shiro’s dog all day. 

 

It’s around 11am when Shiro suggests going for a walk, saying that Kodak could use some exercise and he needs to pick some milk up from the store anyway. Keith agrees quickly, shoving his shoes on and beckoning Kodak to the door.

 

“Lemme just grab his gear and then we can get going.” Shiro calls, walking back down the hallway towards his room. He returns a few moments later with a red dog vest and a fancy looking leather leash. 

 

Keith’s eyebrows knit together in confusion as Shiro buckles a “Service Dog At Work” vest onto Kodak. 

 

“Are you..?” 

 

“-okay? Probably not.” Shiro says jokingly, and then his tone softens and turns serious, “I have problems with ptsd,” He holds up his prosthetic arm, “because of the thing that resulted in… this. I’m fine, Kodak just helps make sure that I  _ stay  _ fine, y’know.” 

 

Keith looks worried. 

 

“Seriously, Keith.” Shiro finishes bucking the vest onto Kodak and stands up, stepping close to Keith and placing his hand on Keith’s shoulder, “I’m okay. I go to a shit ton of therapy and all that, my mental health is doing pretty good.” Kodak noses between them and Shiro smiles down fondly at the dog, “This good boy takes good care of me.” 

 

“Okay.” 

 

-

 

And it is okay. 

 

Weeks go by smoothly and Keith finds himself spending more and more time at Shiro’s flat. Sometimes it’s just to pop by for a half hour so Keith can eat some of Shiro’s food and play with Kodak, and other times it’s Keith falling asleep against Shiro’s shoulder halfway through a movie at 11pm.

 

Keith still goes to the cafe to study for hours upon hours, still taking up an entire table with the sheer amount of books and notes he has. He’ll usually time his study sessions with Shiro’s work hours, so that he can get a free drink from Shiro (if Shiro is feeling generous, which to be fair he usually was) and then after Shiro’s shift he’d come over to Keith’s table and sit with him until he was done whatever assignment he was working on. 

 

It’s a good system. 

 

Eventually, during one of his and Shiro’s movie marathons, Keith figure out that Matt aka Pidge’s brother is really Shiro’s roommate. This led to an interesting conversation between the four of them.

 

“I can’t believe that the guy who wants to steal my dog lives with my friend’s evil younger sister.” 

 

“Are you kidding me? You’re the guy that Shiro never shuts up about?  _ Really? _ ”

 

“Shiro is like a second father to me and you want to steal both him and his dog. I cannot believe this.” 

 

“My roommate’s brother is your roommate. What the  _ fuck  _ man. This is so weird… WAIT DOES THAT MEAN IT WAS YOU WHO PIDGE GAME MY WEBKINZ PASSWORD TO AND STOLE MY POOL I SWEAR TO GOD”

 

-

 

“Hey Shiro?” 

 

“Mmmh?” 

 

They’re sitting side by side on Keith’s bed, his laptop propped up across his lap, watching some shitty amine that Keith can’t even remember the name to. 

 

“I don’t have your number.” 

 

Shiro glaces at him, shocked, “What made you think of that?” 

 

“Dunno. But I don’t know your number and I feel like we’re failing our generation.”

 

“How’s that?” 

 

“Aren’t we supposed to be all tech-savvy or something?” Keith wonders, rummaging through his bedside table for his phone. 

 

“You literally have a laptop from the stone age.”

 

“She still works perfectly well why would I replace her?”

 

“Her?” Shiro grins, “Your laptop is a girl.” 

 

“Fight me, Takashi.” Keith says, though his voice is filled with laughter.

 

“Fine gimme your phone.” Shiro says, fishing his own phone out of his pocket. Keith hands it to him. “I-”

 

Keith raises an eyebrow. 

 

“ _ Keith.  _ This is a  _ flip phone. _ ”

 

“God, not you, too. Pidge already makes fun of me for it.” 

 

_ “ _ I’m not making fun of you… It’s just this is a  _ flip phone. _ ” 

 

Keith glares at him. 

 

-

 

Finals week is here and Keith is closer to a mental breakdown than ever before. He can't remember what sleep feels like and five minutes ago Lance had come in with a bag of energy drinks, to which Pidge had said, “Thank FUCK this is exactly why I love you.” which is why Lance’s face is currently burning red and Keith is chugging down one of the energy drinks. 

 

Now more than ever he wants to go to the caf é to study, because the general atmosphere there was infinitely better than the cramped stuffy space he has at the dorm. 

 

There's dozens of piles of flashcards everywhere, colour coded so that they don't get too mixed up. 

 

The fridge holds an expired tub of yogurt, half a pizza and some questionable looking noodles, which just adds to the lack of self care that is Keith and Pidge’s lifestyle. 

 

Faintly, he can hear Pidge talking in the background but his brain isn't taking much of anything in. He keeps thinking about that last bit of pizza and if it has mold on it yet or not. When was the last time he actually ate? His vision goes hazy for a second and he has to rest his head against the desk for a minute. He's focussing on taking deep, even breaths when Pidge comes up behind him and puts a hand on his back.

 

“You okay buddy?” 

 

Keith nods without lifting his head up, “M’fine.” 

 

“Hey Lance!” Pidge calls, “Can you please grab a glass of water for Keith?” 

 

-

 

It's the next day and Keith cannot for the life of him shake the feeling of dread pooling in his stomach. Realistically, with the amount of studying he's doing and the fact that he always shows up to class on time - there's no way that he could possibly fail and of his finals. But his brain is being dumb and is  _ screaming  _ at him. 

 

At this point he wants to down a bottle of Advil and sleep until his finals and then drink 12 cups of coffee, do the tests and then sleep again for the rest of his life. 

 

But there's no way he can do that.

 

His alarm clock says it's 6:25am, so it will start blaring at him in exactly five minutes but his limbs feel so heavy that he's not sure he'll be able to move the bricks off of them in time to get up and shower. His phone is laying unchanged somewhere under his bed, he hasn't bothered to find it. If anybody  _ really  _ wants to get in touch with him then they should know his email, anyway. 

 

It's stupid.

 

The whole thing of  _ school  _ and  _ learning _ .

 

Keith feels heavy and the his brain keeps telling him that he isn't good enough. It's like someone has taken the weight of the entire universe and shoved it onto his shoulders, and he's just not realising that he's gone way past his limit and he's cracking under all the pressure. Except the weight of the universe is the weight of his life and he's just  _ too damn tired  _ to keep going. 

 

His eyes sting. 

 

He wishes for something. A way out - a way to escape, he wishes for something or someone to come and swoop him off his feet and take him to somewhere safe and warm and far, far away from stress and anxiety and  _ sadness. _

 

But that's impossible. Because wishes are unlikely to come true. So he’s stuck; forever wanting to get away from everything but not being able to.

 

Shiro is a saving grace. As soon as Pidge realised that Keith hadn’t yet gotten up and only mumbled half-coherent answers to her questions (“Are you okay?”) she calls Shiro, asking him to bring Kodak over if he could. 

 

Kodak is trained in helping people get through hard times. He’s there when Shiro’s at the lowest of his lows, offering comfort during or after panic attacks and aiding in letting Shiro know when those attacks are going to start before Shiro himself knows. 

 

Keith isn’t having a panic attack. But it’s the comfort that he needs. 

 

Shiro pushes open the door to Keith’s room, letting Kodak in and then closing it behind them. 

 

“Keith?” Shiro sits on the edge of his bed, watching fondly as Kodak jumps up and snuggles down beside the lump under a pile of blankets that is Keith. 

 

“I’m  _ fine. _ ” There’s a mumbled response, and a hang pokes out from the blanket cave to pet the top of Koda’s head. “I don’t see why everybody’s so worried.” 

 

Shiro sighs, “You haven’t been acting normal. You haven't responded to any of my texts or calls in three days and you haven't been to the caf é  at all recently .”

 

“It’s finals week there’s no time.” 

 

“You’ve always found time before.” 

 

There’s a wet sniff from under the blankets, “I’m sorry.” 

 

“Don’t be sorry.” Shiro sighs again, heavily. “Just don’t push people away. Me, Pidge… hell even Lance and Hunk and Matt - we’re all your friends. We’re here to help if you’re feeling really down.”

 

“It’s just finals week.” 

 

Kodak shuffles closer to the lump of blankets.

 

“Okay… but Keith?” 

 

“Yeah?” 

 

“I’m always here if you need me.” 

 

-

 

_ I’m always here for you, if you need me. _

 

Shiro stays with them at the dorm all day. He quizzes them on whatever they’re working on, and forces them to take breaks every so often. He orders chinese takeout for dinner and invites Lance and Hunk over. 

 

It’s kodak’s presence that helps Keith the most, the giant brown and black dog sicking to his side like a magnet. He even manages to get through a set of the flashcards, forgetting a few of the definitions but doing well for the most part. 

 

Surrounded by his friends - everyone coming together to try and pass all their finals - Keith finds himself with a pleasant safe feeling in his chest. At one point Pidge bursts into tears under the sheer amount of pressure she has pressing into her shoulders. But Lance is there to gather her up in his arms and hold her until she feels better. 

 

It’s safety, and Keith knows that he has great friends.

 

-

 

There’s one more test to take and Keith is walking through the rain (In a raincoat this time - he’s learned his lesson) at 10pm to the caf é , needing some coffee and a distraction from… everything. Because everything’s too much again and the caf é is a safe place to go to. 

 

Shiro’s waiting for him, behind the counter. He doesn’t look surprised to see Keith, and greets him with the same easy smile that he always does. Keith is approximately three and a half steps away from the counter when he bursts into tears. 

 

And thank  _ fuck  _ the shop is empty because Shiro rushes towards Keith and- 

 

And everything’s warm. Everything’s  _ safe.  _

 

It’s been a long time since Keith has received a proper hug. Three months ago, most likely. When he had last seen his Mom and she had hugged him as if her life depended on it. The thing is, Keith loves hugs, and most all other physical affection at that. He’s just horrible at initiating said physical affection. 

 

He’s not good at waltzing into someone's life and becoming friends with them, friends have always found their way Keith. He and Pidge had been in the same physics class back in highschool and had bonded over their mutual hate of every single other person in the class. He met Lance through Pidge. He remembers how he threatened to kill Lance if he ever hurt Pidge, but they’re friends now. He met Hunk through Lance. Hunk’s super friendly he could be friends with  _ anything.  _

 

Shiro is another story though. 

 

Because Keith can’t pinpoint the exact time that they had crossed the line from acquaintances to now; where Keith is just as comfortable around Shiro as he is with pretty much everybody else in his life. Maybe it happened around the time that Keith had spent his first night at Shiro’s apartment and had met Kodak. Maybe it happened when Shiro refused to sell him overpriced coffee and paid for it all himself. 

 

But alternatively, maybe it doesn’t matter  _ how  _ they got here. 

 

Because Keith feels so safe. One of Shiro’s hands is cradling the back of Keith’s head, and the other is brought securely around his waist. Both of Keith’s hands are balled up into the front of Shiro’s shirt and he’s sobbing into Shiro’s shoulder because everything’s  _ too much.  _

 

Shiro’s whispering soothing words in the softest tone of voice that Keith has ever heard. Every single word practically drips with affection. 

 

It takes quite a few minutes for Keith to get himself together enough to stop sobbing into his friend’s shoulder. 

 

Keith breathes deeply, slumping against Shiro’s strong body. “I’m sorry,” 

 

“You’ve got nothing to apologize for. Trust me, I get it. It’s okay.” 

 

Keith murmurs a thank you whilst he unwinds his hands from the front of Shiro’s shirt and wraps them around his back instead, turning his head to the right so that his ear is pressed right over Shiro’s heart. It’s beating steadily and Keith uses that to ground himself even more. 

 

A few moments pass before Keith speaks again, “I just… need a break from all the work, y’know?” 

 

“Yeah. I get it.” 

 

They stay like that for a long time. 

 

-

 

Keith doesn’t want to go back to his dorm after that. Pidge was at Lance’s and the last thing he wants is to be alone. Shiro seems to pick up on this, and invites Keith over for the night. Keith agrees easily. 

 

His eyes are still a bit red and puffy. 

 

Kodak is happy to see him. He licks Keith’s hand and he almost starts crying again. 

 

They go to Shiro’s room because Matt is sitting on the couch with a bag of chips and the T.V blaring vine compilations. 

 

Kodak curls up into a ball in his bed and Shiro throws an old T-shirt and some sweatpants at Keith to wear as pajamas. 

 

They used to argue about who would get the bed and who would have to try sleeping on the uncomfortable sofa, but over time they both come to the logical conclusion that they could just share the bed; it was big enough after all. 

 

Keith gets changed and brushes his teeth quickly in the washroom; combing through his hair with his fingers. 

 

His reflection in the mirror is pale and it’s eyes are puffy and red and the bags under them are deep and dark. It’s lips are chapped and it looks so, so  _ tired.  _ A ghost, a zombie, walking through life barely surviving through everything. No wonder everybody had been so worried. He look slike a living corps.

 

His hair is greasy and he can’t quite remember the last time he showered. His skin feels itchy and he feels dumb for being here instead of studying. 

 

But it’s too late to regret that now. 

 

So he swallows all his doubt and tries to forget about how gross he looks. 

 

Shiro doesn’t look at him any differently. He holds open the blankets, and Keith crawls under them beside him. 

 

Keith settles down and Shiro sits back against the headboard, grabbing his book from the bedside table and opening it up. 

 

They look like an old married couple when Shiro starts reading out loud. 

 

His voice is soothing. It’s like a soft warm cloud, enveloping Keith in warmth and comfort. He doesn’t ever want to move; doesn’t ever want to break the atmosphere that they’re finding themselves in. 

 

But eventually Shiro’s voice starts getting raspy and Keith grabs the book out of his hands and puts it to the side, “Bedtime, Takashi.” Keith’s voice is soft, barely even a whisper. When their eyes meet Keith feels his stomach flip over a million times, and quickly averts his gaze. 

 

“Alright.” Shiro settles on his side, facing Keith. “Hi.” He says in an impossibly small voice. 

 

“Hey,” Keith replies, a smile playing across his (chapped, pale) lips.

 

The ambiance of the room shifts slightly; to something a little more intimate, something a little less friend-like. Keith’s breath hitches in his throat and he reaches out under the blankets, find Shiro’s hand and lacing their fingers together tightly. 

 

Shiro has a stunned expression on his face. But happily stunned, like he can’t believe that Keith is willingly reaching out but is immensely proud and glad that he is. There’s a few beats of stillness, and then Keith is moving forwards, closer and closer until their breaths are tangelling together. 

 

Shiro’s hand is trembling slightly in Keith’s. 

 

His eyes are searching. Keith swallows the lump in his throat. 

 

“Is this okay?” Keith’s voice is soft and raspy, his mouth dry. 

 

Shiro nods, it’s a slight movement but really it’s all the conformation that Keith needs. He presses forward, though that last inch left between them. Keith is nervous but he’s not scared; this is the person who drops everything to go to his side when he needs him, after all. This is the person who works at a tiny cafe and has shitty hours but always spends some of the time with Keith. 

 

This is the person who bought him a toothbrush to keep at his apartment because he stayed over for so many nights. 

 

This is the person who… did everything and more to help Keith from falling apart. 

 

And  _ god  _ he’s wanted to do this for a long time.

 

When their lips touch Keith’s heart is beating faster than ever before. 

 

But it’s so soft and secure. A bit chaste and short, but Keith chases Shiro’s lips and quickly resolves that. 

 

Keith thinks that he’s a pretty good kisser. Judging by Shiro’s reaction, that statement is proven to be correct. It doesn’t take long before Shiro’s hands lay on Keith’s hips, flipping him onto his back and straddling his thighs, his hands tightening around Keith’s hips. 

 

Both of Keith’s hands are cupping Shiro’s cheeks, sliding around to the back of his neck to tug him impossibly closer. Keith bites at his lips, licking over them and asking for more and  _ more.  _

 

Shiro runs a hand up Keith’s shirt, caressing against his stomach and brushing over his nipples, memorizing every bit of Keith’s skin. Keith’s back arches and his whole body feels warm. 

 

Warmth. Softness. Kindness.  _ Love.  _

 

They don’t go further than that. They kiss until their lips are numb and they’re drunk off of lust and then they fall asleep in a tangle of limbs. (minus a few articles of clothing.) 

 

And Keith, with a smile across his face, has never felt happier. 

 

-

 

The next morning Keith is awoken by a loud bang of the door opening and someone yelling, “Rise and shine motherfucker it’s a brand new day!” 

 

Shiro shifts under Keith, and he can pinpoint the exact moment that Shiro wakes up by the way that his heart speeds up and the way that his body tenses up, “Jesus christ Matt, get out!” Shiro tries yelling, but his voice is still tired and it comes out sounding a bit weird. 

 

“Oh hi Keith.” Matt says and then, a second later, “Wait… you guys are-” But he never finishes his sentence because Shiro launches a pillow directly into his face and then jumps out of bed, (Wearing nothing but boxers, courtesy of Keith.) shoving Matt out and slamming the door behind him. 

 

Keith groans, burying his head into a pillow. 

 

“Sorry about that.” Shiro says awkwardly, and Keith looks up only to have his breath taken away. Shiro’s standing there, one hand scratching at the back of his head. There’s scares running up his arm from where his prosthetic starts, and more deeper, bigger ones across his chest and stomach. 

 

Shiro catches him starting and wraps his arms around his stomach, covering the worst of the scars and looking down at the ground, catching his bottom lip between his teeth. 

 

Because they had already kissed and Keith is pretty sure that Shiro knows how he feels about him. So there’s no going back, Keith says, “You’re beautiful.” 

 

Maybe that’s where it starts. With Keith staring at all of Shiro’s flaws and finding him beautiful. With Kodak asleep in his bed, snoring slightly. With greasy hair and the fact that he has to write a final that he might fail lingering in the back of his mind, but still putting his full, undivided attention towards a person that he’s grown to love. Towards a person that he _ wants  _ to love. Towards a person that he  _ knows  _ cares for him. 

 

Yeah. That’s where it starts. With a ‘You’re beautiful.’ 

 

Keith’s plan for his life had been simple:  finish university, get a good job, find a house or apartment to live in, adopt a few cats and live in peace and happiness. But now more than ever he thinks that there’s room room for a man and a dog named Kodak in that plan. And he’s pretty damn happy about it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you liked that!!! I'm totally down to write another chapter so lemme know in the comments if ya think i should or not!
> 
> and if any of you were wondering what Kodak looks like here he is: 
> 
>  


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